“Where’s Leo?”

“I sent him home before we even opened today. He had a sore throat and was barely functioning. The aunts were glad to pitch in.”

“It takes all three of them to cover your job,” Emily stated.

Was that a compliment?

“They’re doing it well,” Madison said automatically, still off-balance from Emily’s observation. “When can you go home? Do you need a ride?”

“I’m almost done, and I don’t need a ride. Agent Wells says he’ll drive me home.”

“He must be relieved that his partner is okay,” Madison said. She liked Ava McLane—she was the type of woman Madison wanted to be.

“You have no idea.”

They ended the conversation, and Madison slid the phone into her apron pocket.

Her sister could have died. A chill washed over her, and an old memory of terror rose from the marrow of her bones.

“Your turn!” Madison shouted at ten-year-old Emily.

Madison checked on her parents. They sat several yards away on a big rock that looked out over the ocean. The park was a favorite of the girls, but it took intense begging, chores, and promises to get their parents to bring them.

It was a blue day at the coast. The ocean reflected the deep, vivid color of the sky. It was the first warm day of spring, and the three girls pretended it was summer, wearing shorts and sandals for the first time since last fall. Emily had started a cartwheel contest in a patch of green grass. Tara had turned her nose up at the game and wandered off with some girls from the high school. Madison had seen one of them flash a pack of cigarettes.

Gross.

Madison had completed four cartwheels without stopping, and Emily needed to beat that. Emily lifted her hands and flung herself into the first cartwheel. As she finished the fourth, her left foot landed wrong, and she slipped. Twisting, she lost her balance and staggered, trying not to fall. The ground caved away at Emily’s feet, and she vanished.

Madison screamed and lunged to the edge on her stomach.

They’d been playing a safe distance away from the edge. It was the same place they always played, but the rains had dug out part of the slope and left a false top.

She saw Emily ten feet down, hugging the slope with her entire body as the ocean crashed into giant rocks a hundred feet below.

Madison shuddered. Her father had carefully inched down the rough slope and rescued his daughter as his wife and Madison shrieked. Emily had nearly slid to her death.

That sensation of utter helplessness as her sister clung to the earth returned like a slap in the face.

The fence at the overlook had been ten yards behind them. Everyone hopped over the fence to get a closer view despite the warning signs.

Her father had been a hero.

Does that make up for his racist views? Could he have been both?

Madison pulled herself out of the past and found Isaac watching her.

“Is something wrong with Emily?”

Madison had never seen his brown eyes so serious. Maybe it was because of the hairnet keeping his hair out of his eyes for once. He’d been thrilled when Madison offered him some cooking lessons, making her wonder why Leo had never bothered. The teen was like a son to him.

“She was in a car accident—she’s fine. A little banged up, but nothing broken.” An idea occurred to her. “Would you mind stopping by the mansion this evening? I have some odds and ends that need doing, and I’ll pay your usual wage.” I’ll figure out what those odds and ends are later.

His eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong?”

She hesitated. “There’s been some extra focus on the family since Emily found Lindsay and Sean.”

“What do you mean, ‘extra focus’?”

“It’d be good to have some more people around the house for a bit. Keep an eye out for things.” Her reason was lame.

Isaac studied her a little longer. “Yeah, I’ll come over.”

Madison forced a smile. “Thank you.” She pointed. “You’ve got another order.”

The way his face lit up warmed her inside. He grabbed the ticket and studied it carefully.

Her conversation with Emily played in her head.

What is Emily involved in?

As he drove Emily home from the hospital, Zander mentally regrouped.

He was down a partner. Ava would be in the hospital for at least a night or two as she recovered. He put his money on one night; as soon as she was coherent, he knew she’d argue to be released. Mason would have to talk some sense into her.

Zander had left a very relieved fiancé at the hospital.

“Her upper arm and shoulder are more metal than bone now,” Mason told him. “She already had four screws in that humerus from getting shot about a year ago.”

Zander remembered.

Sheriff Greer had interviewed Emily about the shooter and received the same story Zander had heard. The sheriff had confided to him that they couldn’t find any sign that someone had been along the road. Understandable with the pouring rain, but no one had seen another vehicle either. He was still looking and asking questions.

Zander’s boss had agreed to send him another agent, but she wouldn’t arrive until tomorrow evening at the earliest. For now, Zander was on his own and needed to decide what to do next.

Alice Penn. He wanted to interview Alice about when she had seen Cynthia Green’s body dumped in the woods. He was pessimistic about the results since Alice was flighty and the death had happened twenty years ago. But the Fitch murders were his priority. Cynthia Green—assuming her identity was confirmed—would have to wait.

Billy Osburne. Still missing. Sheriff Greer had taken the lead on finding the man, but nothing concrete yet.

Tim Jordon’s email with Sean Fitch’s purchases and calendar from his laptop had landed in Zander’s in-box an hour ago. He had studied them as he waited for Emily to be discharged.

“Do you know a Simon Rhoads?” he asked Emily, breaking the silence in the vehicle.

She turned toward him, and he continued to focus on the road, looking beyond the rapid movements of the windshield wipers. The interior of the vehicle was warm and comfortable, a contrast to the growing storm outside.

“I do. He has a thing for Aunt Dory.”

Zander’s lips quirked. “A thing?”

“He’s asked her to marry him at least a dozen times, but she always says no. They’re good friends, but she doesn’t want to live with him. She likes the mansion and her ‘girls.’”

“Are you considered one of her girls?”

“Yep. She loves having her sisters and the two of us around. In her mind it’s a nonstop slumber party. Why do you ask?”

How much can I tell her?

“I got Sean’s calendar. He had an appointment with Simon two days before his death.”

“That makes sense. Simon is the unofficial town historian. As a history teacher, I’m not surprised Sean knew Simon.”

“Unofficial?”

“The city council pays for an office for his records and allots him a small budget. They can’t afford to pay a salary, but Simon doesn’t mind. He’d do it without the location and the budget. He’s a bit obsessed.”

“Aren’t all historians obsessed? I found out Sean Fitch was writing a book. Maybe Simon helped him.”

“I recall Lindsay mentioned Sean was writing a book.”

“Where is Simon’s office?”

“Downtown. It’s in a tiny house owned by the city.” She checked the time. “We’ll need to hurry. He won’t see anyone after three o’clock, and there are no exceptions.”

“I’ll take you home first and then stop by.”

“Do you have an appointment?” she asked.

“I need one?” The question surprised him.

“You better believe it. Simon is a stickler for routine. He may be obsessed with his records, but he’s also obsessed with procedure. You can’t do anything to alter his schedule—especially since you’re a stranger. It flusters him.”

“Then why did you say we need to hurry to get there before his day is done?”

She grinned. “He’ll make an exception for me. Anything or anybody that has to do with Aunt Dory gets special treatment.”

Zander eyed the bandages that peeked through her long, dark hair. “How do you feel?”

She considered. “In light of what’s happened, not too bad.”

“Probably the pain pills.”

“I admit I’m enjoying some pleasant side effects.” Her eyes danced.

“Most people fall asleep.”

“Not me. They’ve always given me some get-up-and-go. Which typically doesn’t help whatever injury I’ve had to take them for.” She felt her bandage. “I’m fine to go with you to Simon’s, if I take it easy and don’t stand for long.”

“If I think you’re in pain or discomfort, we’re leaving.”

She snorted. “Fine. But let me do the talking. You’ll know when it’s safe to speak up.”

Safe?

27

As they went up the cracked walkway to the front door of the tiny home, Emily reminded Zander to let her lead the conversation. She’d known Simon Rhoads all her life, and he’d always been kind to her and her sisters, but he was definitely odd and sometimes struggled with outsiders in his personal space. Under everything he was good-hearted—and very excited about local history.